


From Atlantis To Atlantis

by Elayna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: Cynical and disillusioned John Sheppard makes his living calling bingo and hosting events on the luxury liner Atlantis, figuring he'd spend the rest of his life charming old biddies and enjoying the wilds of Alaska.  But when grumpy and successful Dr. Rodney McKay is dragged on board for a 'real family vacation' by his sister, the scientist's blue eyes make John feel like life may have meaning again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this fic while on a cruise to Alaska in 2010, and in my current 'purge WIPs mode,' decided it was long past time to polish and post. Thank you again to everyone who supported my flailing around in my LJ. That was a great trip and being able to connect to my fannish friends made it even more enjoyable.

"The next is B4. That's B4. Like B4 I was a bingo caller, I was a Chippendale dancer." John smiled as an elderly woman gave a whoop of amusement. Why were the oldest ones always the loudest and raunchiest? The guy with the very blue eyes sitting in the front table glared at her, making John wonder if he didn't like old people (which would be unfortunate, considering how many of them he'd be around for the next 13 days) or if he didn't like others admiring John. 

He was probably being ridiculous to hope it might be the latter. 

Blue eyes was with a woman, and the similarity in their expressions and facial features made John hope they were siblings. They certainly didn't seem like a happy married couple, not with the regular hisses and clearly snarky comments that they made at each other. She was drinking the daily alcoholic special. John didn't pay attention to the latest concoction designed to encourage people to indulge, but he recognized the specialty glass. Blue eyes had a double Scotch on the rocks. 

It was only mid-afternoon, but hey, it was a cruise. Any time was drinking time. 

John couldn't pay much attention to the pair, as bingo moved fast, and the players pounced on any mistake, but it was nice to feel some attraction again to a stranger. Getting kicked out of the Air Force after a disastrous attempt at an unauthorized rescue mission had left him feeling burnt out on life in general, and the tourists on cruise ships could be spoiled and thoughtless, not always encouraging John to think the best of humanity. 

Of course, he couldn't fraternize with the paying customers, that was strictly against the rules, but an occasional glance at blue eyes and strong hands felt good, and when the guy looked back with interest, John felt even better. He thought maybe he was beginning to feel alive, be interested in getting to know people again. Maybe have a real conversation instead of the superficial chit-chat he shared with everyone else on the ship. What could a little daydreaming hurt? 

~~~

John rested his head against the hot tub's plastic surface, eyes closed, letting the heat soak into his bones, angling his leg so the jets pounded the scarred muscle. He heard the sound of flip-flops approaching the tub, cursing that anyone else could be awake so late, but forced a smile to his lips and opened his eyes. It was blue eyes, dressed in one of the white robes supplied for customer use. "Come on in," he said politely, while his mind cried Danger, Danger, Will Robinson. "The water's hot." 

"You looked peaceful. I don't want to disturb you," blue eyes said with a diffidence that seemed unnatural, given the regular hisses at his female companion. 

"No bother. Company would be nice." 

Blue eyes flip flopped over to a deck chair, shrugging off the robe to reveal he was wearing a bathing suit that matched his eyes and clung to his nice ass. He kicked off his flip flops and joined John, giving a blissful sigh as he sunk into the tub. 

"You're awake late," John commented, letting himself admire blue eyes' shoulders, which were broad and solid, and the portion of his chest that rose above the water, the bubbling jets dampening his brown hair. He kept his appreciation subtle, reminding himself no fraternization, especially not with a possibly married man. 

"I usually am. My brain – " blue eyes' hands rose out of the water to make fluttering gestures toward his own skull, flinging drops of water everywhere " – doesn't let me rest as much as other people. I'm a genius." 

John quirked his eyebrows at the guy, because it was about the only personal characteristic that he'd never heard anyone on a cruise ship claim. 

"I am," blue eyes said defensively. "I graduated high school at 15, got my first college degree at 18, my first Ph.D. at 22, and my second at 25. Astrophysics and engineering." 

Those accomplishments were impressive, and John gave a low whistle in acknowledgement. 

Blue eyes seemed mollified, and changed the subject. "You're up late, and using the facilities. I didn't, um, think that the company would let the staff…?" 

"Doctor recommended," John said, raising his leg slightly out of the pool, enough that blue eyes could see the nasty scar. 

"That looks horrible," blue eyes said, staring as John's leg. "How were you hurt?" 

John was familiar with people tactlessly asking about his injury and had learned to be explicit but brief, with a tone that didn't invite probing questions. "I was a pilot in the Air Force. My chopper was shot down in Afghanistan." 

"You were medically discharged? How did you end up here?" 

"I needed a job." John shrugged, grateful that blue eyes took the hint and moved off his military service. "And I'm used to traveling." 

"And you're accustomed to being ogled, I suppose," blue eyes said with a trace of something, maybe envy, maybe bitterness. "Being desired by hundreds of women." 

"I don't like that part," John answered, because he didn't want to dissemble with blue eyes. "Not by the women anyway." 

"Not by the women?" Blue eyes looked startled. "You're not – but you couldn't be, not and have been in the Air Force." 

"Lots of us were. We just couldn't talk about it." 

"Oh," blue eyes said, and it was a happy 'oh' and maybe it meant what John hoped, that the woman wasn't his wife. Not that it really mattered, with the fraternization rules. First the Air Force and now the cruise line. Why did his employers always care about his sex life? 

"John," said a voice, and John grimaced to see Preecha hovering. 

"Time to pack it in," John said briskly to blue eyes. 

"Oh? You don't get special dispensation - " 

"Only to be here, not to keep it open after hours." 

"Of course." 

To his credit, blue eyes got out of the hot tub without further argument, toweling off and putting his robe on. With Preecha waiting, John didn't feel that he could say anything more, getting ready to return to his room too. Still, despite its size, a cruise ship could feel very small. Hopefully he'd see blue eyes again. 

~~~

John liked days when the ship went to Glacier Bay, as very few activities were scheduled. Maybe the cruise ship powers-that-be didn't want to make people choose between bingo and seeing an impressive natural spectacle, or maybe the powers-that-be appreciated the environment enough that they didn't want to find out if gambling would win. John didn't know and didn't much care, but he appreciated the free time. 

Strolling out onto the bow, he immediately heard blue eyes' raised voice. "I've lived in Siberia, Jeannie, as well as many other cold places that you haven't even heard of. I know whether I'm cold or not." 

They were easy to spot, standing near the very front, a little girl leaning on the railing, the man and woman standing a bit back. Blue eyes wore only a black windbreaker over his clothes, while the woman and girl had coats, gloves, and knit caps. John strolled toward them as blue eyes turned away from Jeannie. "Look!" Blue eyes pointed at him. "He's not even wearing a coat." 

John smiled, pleased to be pulled into the conversation, rather than having to find a reason to insert himself. "It's not that cold. And I'm likely to have to go into the pool soon." It really was quite nice weather for the glacier viewing. Overcast and cold, but not raining or foggy. Blue eyes and his family had lucked out. 

"The pool?" Blue eyes looked horrified. "You're going to put on a swimsuit in this weather?" 

"No, I'll go in like this. The crowd likes to see me in sopping wet clothes."

"You could catch your death of cold!" Jeannie exclaimed. 

"Do you have to sound so much like mother?" Blue eyes asked. "You're – well, you were – a scientist. You should understand the ridiculousness of a perfectly healthy individual contracting a cold from a brief dip in a pool. It will be brief, won't it? You're not going to risk hypothermia, are you?" 

Bingo, siblings, John thought with pleasure, his smile getting broader. No wonder their eyes were both so vibrantly blue. He'd been sorry when Preecha had showed up to shut down the hot tub for the evening and interrupted their conversation, but at least now he had his main question answered. "I'll – " 

"It's just an expression, Meredith. Don't be so anal. And the pools are heated." 

"Rodney. My name is Rodney." 

"I know what your name is, Meredith Rodney McKay." 

"Hon." A man who had been wandering around the deck taking pictures rested his hand on Jeannie's shoulder. He was nice-looking but not handsome, about John's height, with curly brown hair and blue eyes. "We're at a glacier. Maybe you and your brother could stop fighting long enough that I could take a picture of you?" 

Jeannie grimaced, accepting the rebuke. "I'm sorry, honey. Of course."

"I'll take a picture of all of you," John offered. 

"Thank you." Jeannie's husband handed over his camera, and John quickly checked the settings while the four arranged themselves by the railing. He angled the camera so the massive glacier was prominent in the background, taking several shots, making sure to get all four smiling. Accepting the camera back, Jeannie's husband introduced himself. "I'm Kaleb Miller and this is my daughter Madison. You seem to have already met my wife and her brother." 

"Not officially." 

"Jeannie Miller." 

"Rodney McKay. Doctor Rodney McKay." 

John shook hands with all of them, even little Madison. All of them had good handshakes, but he liked the strength of Rodney's hand the best. "Anyway, I should head to the bayview pool and make sure everything is ready. The polar bear plunge is coming up soon." 

"The polar bear plunge?" 

"They pipe some of the water from the bay into the pool. Anyone brave enough to plunge in gets a commemorative pin."

"And you have to go in? Fully dressed?" Rodney asked, clearly horrified. 

"He's already gone in once," Kaleb said. "You missed the golfing." 

Now Rodney was giving him a look as if he was mentally deficient. "The golfing? You went into the pool to golf?" 

"I promised to jump in if someone got the golf ball into the basket across the pool." John shrugged his shoulders. Changing clothes wasn't so bad, and his laundry was free. "And someone did. The polar bear plunge I just leap in if it looks like people need encouraging." 

"But you're risking hypothermia if the water is from the glacier. Do you realize how cold it is?" 

Madison tugged at her mother's jacket. "Can we watch him jump in? I want to see!" 

"Of course, honey," Jeannie responded. "We'll go with you, John. Kaleb, you wanted to take some more pictures, didn't you? Meredith, we'll meet you on the Lido Deck at 11:30 for lunch." 

"What do you mean, meet me? I'm going too. Someone needs to make sure John doesn't contract hypothermia. I'll have a towel ready for you when you get out. But it would be the wisest course of action if you could avoid going in."

The sudden realization that he was going to have the McKay-Miller family watching filled John with a sense of dismay. He didn't normally mind being on display, or he would never have applied for a job that required him to be in front of large crowds on a regular basis. But still, the thought of being in wet and clingy clothes while Rodney patted him down… but Kaleb was already taking pictures again, while the other three were staring expectantly at him, and John didn't know how to dissuade them. He could get in trouble if he even tried, as the crew were always supposed to encourage the paying customers to enjoy themselves. 

He could only hope he avoided going in, or that if he did, Rodney didn't try to dry him off and cause his body to reveal where his mind was going. 

~~~

John found himself with a stalker the next day. Sea days were busy, the customers needing to be constantly entertained. Rodney was first in line at the Alaskan Open Golf Championship, aka putting around the big clock in the middle of the ship. From the awkwardness of his grip, he'd obviously never golfed before, but he got the ball into the taped off square, muttering about the difficulties of compensating for the ship's subtle rocking. 

"I didn't see you again yesterday," John said casually. He'd been grateful that Rodney had only patted down his face and hands in front of the dissipating crowd, and then insisted he hustle off to shower and change into dry clothes. 

"Jeannie," Rodney answered with a grimace, handing the club to the next person. "We're bonding." He added air quotes for emphasis. "She does guilt better than mother." 

He was only in the middle of the line at John's next event, the Champagne Ring Toss, and from his intensity and incompetence, had never wasted time at a fair's midway. John tried to show him how to throw smooth and easy, but he soon figured Rodney's personality simply leaned more toward driven. 

"How did you end up a cruise?" he asked. "It doesn't seem your kind of thing." 

Rodney snorted. "It's not even Jeannie and Kaleb's thing. Kaleb's parents were scheduled to go, and his father broke his leg. The company let them change the registration. For a fee, of course." 

"So you just came along?"

"I was home from… my work… and there weren't any flights back, so Jeannie insisted. Besides, the ship is the Atlantis, which... well, that's inconsequential. It just seemed like the place to be." 

"Where do you work?"

"Antarctica." 

"I thought flights go to Antarctica every other day?" 

Rodney looked relieved when the woman behind him cleared her throat loudly, wanting her turn. As he walked away, John wondered about his job. What would an astrophysicist-engineer do in Antarctica? And why would he care that the ship was named Atlantis? He didn't seem like a fellow to appreciate Greek mythology. 

Rodney's team at the Brainbusters Trivia was the first John had ever seen with a perfect score on all the science questions, but listening to the team's bickering, Rodney seemed rather clueless about current cultural activities. Which made sense, if he was stationed in Antarctica and worked too hard, and John should not be thinking about how to help him relax. 

Bingo was John's last event of the day, and Rodney was there again, sitting in the front row. His presence made John pull out all the stops, all the bad jokes, every "G58, that's greeeaaaattttt!" appalling Tony the Tiger imitation in his repertoire. Rodney's focus was equally divided between his bingo card and John's face, which was flattering. 

He kinda liked having a stalker. 

"Are you allowed to eat dinner with the paying customers?" Rodney asked, having hovered until the last of the bingo players left. "If there's a problem, I would be happy to tell your boss that it was a favor for me. Jeannie and Kaleb are vegetarians. Do you know how few vegetarian dishes are on the menus on this ship?"

"They give you a hard time when you order meat?" 

"Actually, they don't. Jeannie would, but Kaleb won't let her, except that Madison asks questions and Jeannie insists on answering them fully. Even in dumbed-down language for a five year old, I've learned far more about the food industry than I ever wanted to know in my life." 

"I get interrupted a lot when I eat in the dining room." 

"Oh," Rodney said, like he wasn't sure what John meant. 

"I could pick up meals and bring them to your stateroom. You do have your own room?" Stupid, stupid, stupid idea, said the part of John's brain that had told him not to disobey orders. 

"Oh yes. There would be sibling-cide if I had to room with Jeannie. Though I'm not sure which one of us would strike the first blow," he added reflectively. "I'm in 3360." 

John stomped on the cautious part of his brain. He wanted this, wanted to spend time with Rodney. "It'll take me at least 20 minutes to swing by the kitchen, pick up food, and make it there. Maybe thirty. That okay?" 

Rodney beamed with happiness. "That's fabulous."

"The steak?" 

"Medium rare, please. And I'm deathly allergic to citrus. No lemons, limes, oranges, or other citrus fruits, not even as a decorative garnish. The cooks should know by now, as I've had to send back several dishes."

"I'll make sure there's no citrus and see you at your stateroom as soon as I can."

"I'll make sure the table is cleared off." Rodney scampered away. John headed in the other direction, whistling under his breath, trying to remember the last time he'd been on a real date with a hot guy. He was going to enjoy the anticipation, and the date, and not dwell on possible consequences. 

~~~

John liked Rodney. He liked him a lot, and spending alone time with him only confirmed that opinion. Yeah, the guy could be arrogant and tactless, but also funny and unexpectedly sweet, and he was unabashedly interested in John and learning about him. 

Maybe it was shallow, but it had been a long time since John had felt anyone really cared about him, and that was very appealing. 

The staterooms weren't the most convenient place for an intimate dinner. The table wasn't big enough for their plates, so they put the bottle of wine and their glasses on it. John took the chair, Rodney the miniscule couch, their plates balanced on their laps. Rodney turned off the lights for the entryway and bed area, leaving only the light over the seating area on. 

The stateroom attendant had twisted white towels into a cute dog, which Rodney had moved off the bed and sat next to the television, where it watched them with its black paper eyes. 

Conversation flowed easily, covering everything from Alaska (a subject of disagreement, since John loved the state, and Rodney disdained the tourism of the towns they'd visited) to Zardoz (Sean Connery was hot in a loin cloth and red boots, they agreed). Rodney made the most fascinating noises as he savored the food, noises that became even more ecstatic when John lifted the lid off the plate with two chocolate soufflés. 

They dug into dessert, finishing off the bottle of red wine, John contemplating how to raise the subject most on his mind, because really, just because a guy stared at you, it didn't mean he wanted to have sex with you, right? Only John thought maybe it did, and nerved himself as he set his plate aside, asking, "Can I kiss you?" as Rodney asked, "Can we have sex? 

"I'm rushing things, aren't I? Of course you can kiss me. I would love to kiss you. And forget I asked about sex, okay?" 

"I'd rather not," John said, lunging off the chair, draping himself on Rodney's lap, one of his knees on the couch, the other leg awkwardly stretched out, as the scar tissue made bending it difficult. He slid his hands into Rodney's soft hair, bringing their faces close together. "Forget about you asking about sex," he clarified. "Because the answer is definitely yes." 

He kissed him, and it was everything he'd dreamed of, Rodney kissing back eagerly, his big hands warm on John's waist. John sucked on Rodney's tongue suggestively, before breaking away and standing up. "I can't mess up my clothes." He started undressing rapidly, putting his clothes on the counter by the television. In another circumstance, he might have been nervous about getting naked before his partner. The way Rodney watched him eliminated all doubts. 

"I want to see you too," he said, tugging on Rodney's shirt. 

"I'm not like you," Rodney apologized, even as he stood and began undressing. "Which is surprising, given the amount of running I do. But I like to eat, though you wouldn't believe some of the things I've eaten, and when I'm not running, well, I'm a scientist. I spend a lot of time in my lab."

"You look good to me," John said appreciatively, liking Rodney's broad shoulders, wide chest, and strong thighs, even the small bit of padding on his belly. 

"What do you want to do? Blow jobs, hand jobs, frottage?" 

John tugged Rodney the few steps toward the bed. "Can we take our time?" His sexual experiences had tended to be rushed, and he wanted to savor Rodney.

"Leisurely is good."

Falling backward onto the bed, John scooted up, positioning himself in the middle as Rodney crawled on top of him. 'Leisurely' was a direction Rodney followed well, adding in a healthy dose of 'generous' and 'exploratory.' John had never been kissed and caressed all over his body, like Rodney wanted to know every inch of him, running his hands through John's cowlicky hair, licking at his very interested cock, to even sucking on his big toe. 

Twisting, arching, and moaning, John tried to repay Rodney in kind, kissing his pointed nipples, stroking his blood-reddened cock, and squeezing his luscious ass. 

"God," Rodney said, turning John over, running his fingers between the cheeks of John's ass. "Can I fuck you? I would really like to fuck you. I'd take it slow. I'd try to take it slow," he amended, with that unconscious honesty John so admired. 

And hell yes, John wanted it too, a deep, slow fucking, so different from the rushed hand jobs and blow jobs of his military days. "I don't know if I can stay on my hands and knees long enough," he said, raising up on his elbows and twisting his head to look at Rodney. "My leg… but face to face." 

In answer, Rodney kissed him hard, rolling him over again, pressing him down. "I'll make it good for you," he promised. 

"I know." John smiled, spreading his legs, deliberately relaxing his muscles as Rodney scrabbled through the junk on his nightstand, finding a tube of something. 

"My homemade sunscreen. It should work as lube."

"There's a condom in my pants pocket." 

"You are brilliant," Rodney swore, leaping off the bed to search John's pants pocket, returning with the condom, settling between John's legs, hoisting the unscarred one onto his shoulder. His fingers in John's were as slow and methodical as the rest of his exploration of John's body, until John was shaking from the continuous pressure on his prostate. 

"Fuck me," he ordered. "Jesus, now. *Please.*" 

Rodney looked almost incoherent, as if giving John pleasure had driven him out of his own mind with equal pleasure, but he was still focused enough to wipe his hand on the sheet, roll the condom on, slick it up, and slowly push into John's body. 

They both moaned with relief when Rodney bottomed out, his cock completely encased in John's body. "So good," Rodney said drunkenly, to which John could only respond, "Yes," digging his fingers into Rodney's ass, urging him on. Rodney took it slow, as he promised, deliciously, excruciatingly slow, until John felt like he was drowning in pleasure, gasping for breath, and wishing this feeling would never end. 

His orgasm came abruptly, like his body realized what his mind didn't want to acknowledge, that an overload of sensation couldn't continue indefinitely. He pulled Rodney's head down, kissing him hard as his cock sputtered and jerked between them, semen dripping onto his belly, his muscles contracting uncontrollably. Rodney gasped into his mouth, coming too, slumping onto John as he collapsed. 

They managed to move, separating, and Rodney pushed on John, rolling him onto his side. Rodney was a cuddler, John realized, as the other man snuggled him into the curve of his body. John had never had much time for cuddling, too afraid of being caught, but he thought he could like it. 

There was a watch on the nightstand with the rest of Rodney's junk, and John picked it up. "I need to DJ soon." 

A satiated murmur was Rodney's response. John could feel that Rodney's muscles were relaxing as he slid into sleep. The arm resting on his waist was a dead weight. John couldn't let himself follow, but he could lie here for a few minutes, and enjoy the feeling of being cherished. 

He flipped off the light over the seating area, and turned on the reading light next to the bed. To keep himself awake, John studied the debris on Rodney's nightstand. Water bottle, chocolate bar, several flash drives, a bottle of vitamins, the ship's daily programs, a few postcards, and a white, circular object John didn't recognize. 

He picked it up, and it glowed blue in his hand. A lighted paperweight? Why would a scientist have a paperweight? John couldn't see Rodney actually using paper.

But then something touched his mind. Something simplistic, but alien. An awareness, with a single purpose, to explode. 

And John realized he was holding a bomb. 

~~~

John's thoughts were as chaotic and loud as the music he was playing. He couldn't figure out how this had become his life, playing danceable music for people at least a decade younger than him, with a stolen bomb in his pocket, while his illicit lover slept.

He shouldn't have brought it with him, but equally, he couldn't have left it behind. John's sense of responsibility was too ingrained to leave a weapon on the ship out of his control. 

He should have taken it to the Captain. He should have dropped it overboard. 

Fuck. John smiled, said something in the microphone that he hoped made sense, and started another song, thankful that he'd already written out his playlists before the cruise started. Making music choices right now would be impossible. 

Think, John, think. What did he know? Rodney was brilliant, a scientist, who worked in an obscure location that Rodney had identified as Antarctica, but which involved a lot of running and eating weird things. He had a Ph.D. in engineering, which could easily qualify him to be a weapons designer. The astrophysics part was a little odd, but many people didn't use their college degrees in their professions. Hell, calling bingo numbers for a living wasn't what John envisioned when he got a degree in math. 

John surreptitiously touched the device in his pocket, both with his fingers and his mind. It gave him the same sense of patient waiting. 

But this… weaponry attuned to the individual's mind? That was beyond brilliant, cutting edge technology. Anyone could walk into anywhere with the sleek plastic and not be detected. And if they could be remote detonated…

John couldn't make all the pieces fit in this puzzle. The bomb was too advanced, and felt too alien. And Rodney… how could Rodney be a weapons designer? And if he was, why would he bring one on vacation with him? Rodney and his sister bickered a lot, but there was an underlying sense of exasperated affection between them. He couldn't see Rodney endangering her or her family or 2,000 strangers. 

As soon as the party ended for the night, John headed to Rodney's room, hoping he was still awake. He needed to talk to him, to hear from Rodney's own lips whatever the hell was going on. He knocked lightly on the door, relieved when it opened immediately. 

Rodney beamed at him. "I hoped you'd come back."

"We need to talk." 

Rodney's face fell at John's tone. "Yes, of course. Talk. We should talk." He stepped back into his room, letting John follow. "What do we need to talk about?" 

"We need to talk about this." John pulled the bomb from his pocket, holding it out on his palm, reminding it firmly not to detonate. 

To John's surprise, Rodney stared in happy amazement. "You – John! It's lit!" He glanced over at his crowded nightstand. "I didn't even realize it was gone. But it lights for you! This is fabulous." 

"Fabulous?"

"Yes, of course, it's fabulous. You – well, I can't explain yet. You need to sign a confidentiality agreement, and the General needs to agree, but then you – you're wasted here, John. You could be doing so much more, working with me. You've obviously got the – aptitude." 

"For weapons design?" John asked incredulously. 

"Weapons design? Well, not very often and only if I can't help it. But I was thinking more – " Rodney waved his hands toward the bomb. "That." 

John stared at Rodney, realizing that he was wearing sweats and the t-shirt had 'Air Force' emblazoned across the front. Also, that he'd mentioned 'the General.' "You work for the Air Force?" 

"Technically no. I work for a multi-national organization called the IOA, but it's in conjunction with the Air Force. You wouldn't have to work for the Air Force. You could be an independent contractor too." 

"Rodney." John sighed patiently, wondering how this conversation had gotten so surreal that it started with a bomb to being offered a new job. "Why did you bring a bomb on board?" Rodney probably wasn't going to tell him about the weapons program itself, not if he worked with the Air Force, but at least he could explain his rationale for carting around a bomb. 

"A bomb?" Rodney looked blank. "I didn't. What makes you think I brought a bomb on board?" 

"Rodney." John swayed his hand gently for emphasis. "This is a bomb. It wants to explode. It's waiting for me to tell it to explode. Why did you bring it on board?"

Rodney pointed at the bomb in John's outstretched palm. "That's a bomb?" 

"Yes. That's a bomb." 

An expression of total horror crossed Rodney's face. "Are you sure? Oh my god, you are sure, aren't you? It's a baby drone, a very baby drone. We have to get it off the ship. I have to call the General. The Daedelus – no, the Daedelus isn't – " Rodney flailed his hands. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, John relaxed at the confirmation that Rodney wasn't some sort of crazed terrorist. "I'm getting it off." He stalked out of Rodney's room, down the hallway, toward the doors to the deck. 

"John! What are you going to do?" 

John ignored the flip flopping of Rodney's slippers behind him as he walked through the door and onto the deck, continuing to the back of the boat. It was freezing cold, but he was too determined to be deterred by the temperature. Thankfully no one was around to wonder at what he was doing or why Rodney was following him. 

"John!" 

"I'm getting it off the ship." John paused at the very back by the railing. Like he was holding a baseball, he brought his arm back and then threw hard, tossing the bomb high and wide toward the dark ocean. 

"You can't throw it in the ocean! It's Ancient – " 

Too late, John realized his mistake. In relief, he'd relaxed his mental control, and all the bomb knew was that it was being thrown. "Get down!" he yelled, knocking Rodney to the ground, covering his body with his own, even as the bomb exploded. That's freezing, was John's last thought as a huge plume of cold ocean water washed over them. 

~~~

John rolled off Rodney, getting onto his feet but feeling dazed and wobbly, and worrying whether the explosion had punctured a hole in the ship. He helped Rodney up. The other man was functioning, and talking very loudly, though John had trouble hearing him. He hoped he hadn't blown his ear drums out. Rodney held his head back, still talking, and tried to staunch the blood running from his nose. An effect of the shock wave, or had John banged his nose into the deck? 

Ship's officers came running, asking demanding questions of them, but John shook his head and pointed to his ears. Rodney seemed to be yelling. They were hustled off to medical, where John was pushed into a curtained alcove. A nurse started to strip off his wet clothes, surrendering a hospital gown and leaving when John shooed her away. The ship's doctor soon appeared to give him an examination. He shivered in the hospital gown and pointed again to his ears, indicating the only problem. 

The Captain stepped into the alcove and stood by his bedside, looking stern. John wondered if officers had to pass a 'how unhappy can you look' test before advancing to Captain. "Mr. Sheppard, we have reviewed the security camera on the deck, and will be turning you and the video over to the authorities as soon as we dock." 

What a great time for his hearing to be kicking back in. "I didn't – " John stopped talking, aware that any objection would implicate Rodney. 

"I am very disappointed that any member of the ship's personnel could endanger the ship and the passengers in such a way. You may be assured that your actions will be prosecuted to the utmost degree." 

I was trying to protect all of you, you idiot, John thought, but he knew it wouldn't help. It hadn't helped when he'd said he was trying to rescue his buddies, why should it help now? "No one was hurt?" he asked. "The ship's okay?" 

The Captain frowned at John's obvious concern. "The ship and the people on board are all fine. No one was hurt."

John nodded, and the Captain frowned some more, as if he expected John to protest or explain his action, but finally he left. Twitching the curtains to each side of him, John hoped to find Rodney, but he wasn't in either alcove. Laying back, John wondered if they'd be nice enough to bring him some clothes before they put him in the brig. Did the cruise ship even have a brig? The question had never risen, so John didn't know. Maybe they'd just lock him in his cabin. 

Only instead of ship's officers, the military arrived. Air Force, from the insignia, a man and a woman, both Colonels, and both attractive enough to be on recruiting posters. "John Sheppard?" the man said, putting a bundle of clothes down. "Please get dressed and come with us." 

Sitting up, John pushed the hospital gown off his shoulders, letting it puddle on his lap while he pulled on a sweatshirt. One of his own, which meant that they'd been to his cabin. "Do you work with Rodney?"

The man and woman exchanged a look. "Yes, we do." The woman smiled reassuringly. "This isn't the place for discussion." 

John stood up, the hospital gown dropping to the floor, and both officers discreetly looked away, letting him dress. They were tactful, but they were still guards. The man touched his hand to his ear. "The helicopter is landing on the forward deck. We're going to fly you out." 

If they hadn't come by helicopter, how had they arrived? "Is Rodney coming with us?" 

"Rodney is coming by alternative transportation," the woman answered. 

John took a shot. "The Daedelus?"

The woman grinned, like John was a particularly bright student. "The Apollo actually." 

Military travel was never particularly fun when John wasn't the pilot, and it took a tedious amount of time to get from the ocean off the Alaska coast to an Air Force base somewhere on the west coast before transferring to a plane and finally landing in what John thought was the middle of the country. The woman had stayed on the cruise ship, but the man was his constant escort, making it clear that John had no choice. 

When he was finally escorted into a sparsely decorated bedroom in a deep underground facility, the first thing John saw was his luggage, which presumably meant it also had gone by the Apollo. 

"I'll bring you some food," Mitchell said, because he had relaxed enough to tell John his name and talk about football a bit. 

"Is Rodney here?" John asked. 

"He should be. Burger and fries good?" 

"So why didn't we go by the Apollo?" 

"I'll get you a coke too," Mitchell said and walked out. John went after him, intending to open the door and yell, 'Chocolate milkshake!' only the door was locked from the outside, leaving John yanking on the doorknob, tired, cranky, and still in the dark. 

They brought him regular meals, and he found the book he'd been reading in his luggage. In fact, he had all of his life's possessions, as the contents of his cabin had been completely packed up. John thought about demanding his phone call, thinking maybe he'd break down and contact his father, ask for assistance from his corporation's highly paid legal firm staff. Assuming, of course, that his dad would even take his call. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hi Dad. Yeah, can you send a flunky to rescue me? Some people might have the impression I'm a terrorist.' 

Fortunately, Mitchell opened the door and said, "General O'Neill will see you now." 

"Sure," John said, like he thought he could fit the General in his schedule. 

Mitchell gave his t-shirt a pointed glance, but John just cocked an eyebrow. He'd been a prisoner for several days now, for doing the right thing, and the General could take him as he was. 

O'Neill was sitting behind a desk that had a name plate with 'General Landry' on it. He was a good-looking guy with silver hair, and looked amused at John's 'Mine's too big to hold with one hand' t-shirt. "Cute drawing," he said, nodding at the cartoon of a guy grabbing a wriggling fish with both hands. 

"A souvenir of Alaska," John said, deliberately slouching in the guest chair, putting one sneakered foot on the edge of the General's desk. 

"Great fishing. I should visit again soon." 

"I hear the Apollo can get you there very quickly." 

O'Neill smiled, and John was getting really tired of military people who smiled at him but didn't explain anything. "You've been approved for full disclosure. But first the paper pushers say you have to sign this." He shoved a document across the desk.

John gave the many pages a cursory review, recognizing a non-disclosure agreement, and signed it. He wanted to know what was going on, and be allowed to talk to Rodney again. 

"It's easiest if I just show you this. We made it for new members of the Senate Armed Forces committee." He double clicked on his computer, and video began playing on the TV screen on the wall. John swiveled the chair to watch the video, which explained Stargates and evil aliens (the Goa'uld and the Ori) and good aliens (the Tokra, the Asgard, and the Ancients) and fascinating discoveries and two spaceships (the Apollo and the Daedelus), and finally the expedition to the lost city of Atlantis, financed by the IOA and managed by Doctors Elizabeth Weir and Rodney McKay and Colonel Marshall Sumner. Oh, and more bad aliens and the possibility of another intergalactic war, as soon as the Wraith woke up. 

"Fuck," he said, when it ended. 

O'Neill set a cup of coffee on the desk by John. "It's been an interesting decade." 

"Yeah, I guess so." John took a sip, needing caffeine. The Stargate project was the granddaddy of all military secrets, and even when he was in the military, John had never heard a hint of it. These people did secrecy well. "So why did you show this to me?" 

"The Ancient technology can only be used by people who have the Ancient gene. Until you, we thought we were doing okay." 

"You didn't know Rodney was carrying a bomb." Rodney didn't work in Antarctica; he worked in another galaxy, where he occasionally ate strange foods and ran from hostile aliens. 

O'Neill shrugged. "It's little and easy to carry and lights up when someone with the Ancient gene touches it. We gave six of them out for people to check potential recruits for the program. We've got them all back now." 

"You handed out unknown alien devices to *civilians*?" John asked incredulously. 

O'Neill's mouth firmed a little, as if he was unaccustomed to having people question his decisions. "Everyone cleared them. Even *Rodney.* The scientists are having conniption fits now that there's definite proof the Ancients' military hardware is keyed to work best for people with the purest expression of the gene. People like you." 

Hoorah. John wasn't so sure he wanted to be special. "So where do I fit in?" 

"I've spent the last few days touching every Ancient device we're brought back to Earth. Even when I can make them talk to me, they give me a headache. And I was considered to have the strongest gene."

So he was more powerful than a General. Double hoorah. 

"We want to hire you as an independent contractor. You'd work for the IOA, first here to double check everything we've brought back, then on Atlantis."

"Just touching things?" 

O'Neill gave a shrug. "You'd be part of the science team. You do have a degree in mathematics. You could help with science-y things.

"Or you could leave," he added casually. "Take your two suitcases and go. We got you cleared of charges, so you might find some other cruise line to let you entertain old ladies." 

John flushed, feeling the tips of his ears burn a bit, and stared defiantly. 

"Rodney is eager to have you hired. He's probably the best person to discuss your job duties. Of course, your leg makes you physically ineligible to rejoin the military, so you'd be a civilian, but you should probably train to fly the gateships." O'Neill peered at his computer screen, and clicked on a file. John glanced over at the television screen to see a video of a scientist walking around a small ship, talking about its specifications. "They're the primary spaceship on Atlantis. Stupid name though. I would have called them puddle jumpers." 

Space ships. Small spaceships. And Rodney. "Military regulations wouldn't apply to me?" 

"Doctor Weir drafted all the personnel rules for the scientists and support staff. They're very… European. You'd even get four weeks of paid vacation a year." 

"I want to talk to Rodney." 

"You're free to wander around the facility now. The science labs are mostly on level 29. They have several boxes of Ancient devices for you to touch, whenever you decide you're ready to start working." 

John rose, forcing himself to stand, just stand, and not slip into a military stance or salute. "General," he said, with a nod. 

"You don't need to decide too soon. The sooner you decide, the sooner I can go back to Washington and leave you to all the touching. I hate Washington." 

"I'll keep that in mind," John promised. 

He walked out of the door and straight into Rodney's kiss, the other man grabbing his t-shirt and hauling him close, planting their lips together. John melted, sagging into Rodney, the door held open by their bodies. 

Rodney released John's t-shirt only long enough to place his hands just above John's ass. "You're okay, right? They didn't want me to talk to you until they cleared you. Did O'Neill offer you the job?" 

"Are you okay?" John countered. "You were bleeding from the nose." 

"I'm fine. The Apollo was back in orbit early, so they beamed me up and took care of me. The job? You are going to come to Atlantis with me, aren't you?" 

Atlantis, the lost city of myth and legend. Atlantis, the actual true home of an alien race. Atlantis, where Rodney McKay lived and John could fly spaceships. "I don't know if I can," he said, smiling, teasing, snuggling their hips together. "I might have a hard time resisting an affair with my boss." 

"We'll make Elizabeth your boss. Put you in a little box on the org chart," Rodney suggested promptly, his hands sliding down to cup John's ass. "Then you could have an affair with me." 

"I'd rather have a relationship. A long-term relationship." John kissed the grin on Rodney's lips, kept kissing him until Rodney was moaning into his mouth, until O'Neill yelled, "Hey, get a room!" 

Pulling Rodney down the hall, letting the door swing shut behind them, John decided to take the General's advice. And his job offer. 

~ the end ~


End file.
